Fields of Green
by Fate8
Summary: A Martian Manhunter story. A dark side of spirituality emerges as J'onn investigates a series of crimes. Reviews always appreciated! New chapter up, finally!
1. Chapter 1

The simple, white clapboard church sweltered in the early Sunday afternoon sunshine. Sweat dripped down the backs of many of the attending parishioners, but not one moved from the rows of crowded pews. They were held spellbound on this Sabbath, not by the local pastor, but by a special speaker, who had come to address them about an important issue in these troubling times.

The orator himself was flushed with passion, but he did not miss a beat as he kept hammering home point after point, gaining momentum as he went along. Pacing the floor, he swept out one arm toward his audience.

"We can no longer tolerate these beings among us," he declared. "Aliens, pagans, metas, augments and demons. The wicked and the so-called heroes who infest our daily lives." He eyed the congregation, quickly judging their mood.

"What will become of the children of God?" he asked. "What will happen to the lamb, if it continues to lie down with the wolf?" The man nodded to his assistant stationed in the back. The lights of the church dimmed, and images began to flicker on a projection screen set up behind the alter.

"Look my friends," said the speaker. "Gaze upon what we have allowed to flourish." The first picture was of Blue Demon, squatting in the rubble of some cataclysmic battle, and holding a trident. He was replaced by Etrigan, streaming hellfire from his mouth. A few gasps escaped from the crowd when a rare picture of Blaze appeared, her demonic glare pinned a number of church goers to their seats.

"Yes," intoned the speaker. "Demons, the left hand of Satan himself, walk the earth." He paused and scanned the room again as Sabbac appeared onscreen. "Yet not all evil wears such an easily recognizable face."

The next slide was of Captain Marvel. Followed by images of Mary Marvel, Captain Marvel Junior and Black Adam.

"Handsome, pretty and strong. Yet these self-proclaimed saviors of humanity say their powers are granted by a gaggle of false gods. I ask you, brethren, where does that leave the one, true God?" The speaker stopped and mopped his brow with a white handkerchief. A picture of Wonder Woman popped up to face the crowd.

"Ah," said the speaker in a soft, knowing tone. "The icon. Revered throughout the secular world as one of the world's greatest heroes and held up as a role model for one and all. Yet this one, beautiful to the eye, corrupts our youth by claiming kinship to false gods and spreading nefarious teachings to all corners of the country."

The spokesman, a large man with a naturally booming voice, paused again as if gathering his thoughts. "I know what some of you are thinking," he said softly as the church lights were brought back up to full force. "Don't these heroes do good work? Haven't they saved us all at one time or another?" He looked several parishioners dead in the eye. "Think about this. Cults are springing up all across the world, dedicated to the worship of these beings. They are spreading, more appear every year. The Church of Ion, The Cathedral of Rao, The Temple of Resurrection, and many others whose names are an abomination to the ears of the Lord. Just think about that for awhile."

"We need to have faith in God," exclaimed the speaker. "Who will stand up for Him?" An uneasy murmur passed over the congregation.

"That is why I have come to visit you today," continued the man in a more conversational tone. "Our group, The Shepherds, have a mission to educate people who have been misled by the power and beauty of these false idols. We will battle for the Lord against these atrocities." He stopped to let his words sink in.

"I want to thank you all for letting me come and talk to you today. If any of you feel strongly enough about what I have said on this fine afternoon, and wish to join our crusade, please come and see me after dismissal."

Following final prayers, the church goers trickled outside. A few lingered to chat with the speaker and his assistant.

"Did you mean it when you said the heroes were bad?" asked one young woman. "Even the JLA?"

The man who had spoken during the service moved slightly forward. "Anyone who detracts from the glory of God is bad in our book," he said. "The majority of people have been seduced by flying men who can move mountains, and women who look like supermodels, but can crush tanks with their bare hands. The public has begun to look toward them for protection and salvation instead of God. That isn't right."

"What will your group do?" asked one boy not older than seventeen.

"The Shepherds have started a special school of instruction," said the man, " where believers can come and find out the truth about these super-beings and the threat they pose to our faith and way of life. Later, we can show you how to combat their blasphemous messages and expose them as the hypocrites they truly are."

The man smiled, showing an expansive array of teeth. "We have been give a great mission, my friends," he said. "God has charged us with restoring His name and His glory, while bringing about the fall of His enemies. Now, who would like to know more?"

Afterwards, when everyone else had left the church grounds, the two strange men stood alone in the courtyard. The one who had spoken turned toward his silent partner. His demeanor instantly morphed from that of a confident, charismatic public speaker to that of a pleading puppy, anxious for its owner's approval.

"Did I do well, Master?" whined the larger man. "I did just as you asked."

The smaller man looked at him with marked disdain. "You did well enough, dog," he said. "You will not be punished tonight."

The man who had earlier projected such power and leadership hung his head in abject gratitude.

The other absently stroked his short, dark beard. "Leave Shepherd applications for Jimmy Wilson, Carrie Leeds and Mark Goldner. They appear very promising."

"Yes, Master," replied his now submissive associate. He shuffled off to leave the forms for the pastor to distribute. The task accomplished, the pair climbed into a car and left the small town in search of another.

Three months later:

The JLA Watchtower gleamed, a shiny spire on Earth's otherwise dreary moon. Inside, J'onn J'onzz sat in the monitor womb, surrounded by banks of video equipment which beamed reports to the Watchtower from all over the globe. No crisis occupied the Martian Manhunter , so he used the time for deep meditation. He was snapped out of his reverie by the approach of a very emotional human mind. J'onn eyed a nearby clock. His shift was nearly up, so the churning ball of thought coming toward the door had to be his relief, Green Lantern.

The doors behind J'onn slid open, and the Martian turned in his seat to face Kyle Rayner. It was apparent that this particular Green Lantern was not happy.

"Where is he?" demanded Kyle. "Where is Wally?"

"Wally was here approximately thirty-five minutes ago," replied J'onn. "He came up to get one of Captain Cold's obsolete cold guns for use in the Flash Museum."

"Yeah, well that's not all he got," said Kyle. "Speedy Gonzalez made off with a stack of my CD's that were stored in my quarters."

"That seems unlikely," said J'onn. "Are you certain you did not misplace them elsewhere?"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure," said Kyle. He held up a hand written sign. "This was taped to my door."

Kyle,

Borrowed some of your CD's

Don't worry I'll have them back in a Flash.

Wally

"Hmmm," said the Manhunter when he saw the evidence. He seemed slightly affronted.

Green Lantern threw his hands up in the air in frustration. "And the worst part is, he knew I had monitor duty tonight."

"I suggest you give Wally a stern talking the next time you two are called out to battle the Legion of Doom or the Society.," said J'onn.

"What?" asked a suddenly perplexed Green Lantern.

"You both are acting like children. Again."

"Yeah, but…"

J'onn held up one hand. "I do not want to hear it," he said. "You know Wally will bring back your music. Am I correct in assuming that he left you a good many discs?"

"Yeah."

"So, he did this merely to get you riled up, which you did, and played right into his hands." J'onn shook his head. "I am going to grab a bag of Chocos and beam down to Earth. I never want to hear of this again."

"Still," said Kyle softly as he moved to take his place in the monitor chair, "someday I'll have my revenge. I'll beam him to Qward, or better yet, let's see how he likes a giant green Christina Aguilera tramping around Keystone."

"Nah," continued Kyle as he settled in, "he **would** probably like that. How about…"

J'onn opened his mouth to say something when an alarm sounded. Video feeds from south Florida streamed in, telling the two Leaguers of an explosion and subsequent gunfire at a regional JLA fan club meeting. On hand for that particular get together was former JLA member Major Disaster. Heavy casualties were reported.

"I'll go look into the matter," said J'onn. "Keep me posted on further information."

"Okay," said Green Lantern, "call in if you need anything."

The Martian Manhunter made his way to the teleportation tubes, and set the coordinates for the crime scene.


	2. Broken Pieces

J'onn materialized near ground zero, and immediately turned invisible to avoid detection by anyone who happened to be passing by. Taking to the air, and gliding slowly over the area, he got a first-hand look at the carnage down below. It was as bad as he feared. Smoke wreathed the trees, and bits of debris covered the entire park. The authorities were taking control, but wounded and shocked people were still stumbling about in a daze. Landing behind a fire truck, J'onn took the form of a county deputy, several of which were in the immediate vicinity, trying to gain some measure of control over the disaster.

The Manhunter reached out with his mind and located Major Disaster. His former teammate's thought patterns were familiar to J'onn, making it easy for the Martian to hone in on Disaster's position. He found the reformed villain sitting in the back of an ambulance. A paramedic was busy patching a wound on his arm.

J'onn sent a telepathic prod to the first responder, sending him off to seek someone else who required medical assistance.

"Hey, where're you going?" asked Major Disaster, shooting an indignant look a the back of the retreating paramedic. "I'm still bleeding here."

J'onn walked straight up to the ambulance. "Booker," he said in a low voice.

"What do you want, cop?" Disaster's emotional state was unstable, and J'onn could almost see the turbulent thoughts spilling from his mind.

"Paul, it is me, J'onn." The man hunter switched to telepathic communication when he saw realization dawn in Disaster's eyes. _"What happened here?"_

_"I don't know." _Major Disaster's voice echoed back into J'onn's mind. _"I was sitting at the VIP table near the front of the stage. Some geek wearing a Superman t-shirt was yapping away at the podium. I had my feet propped up, waiting to be called onstage, when a loud explosion went off to my left. I was knocked out of my chair. Right after the detonation, gunfire ripped through the crowd. I caught one in the arm."_

J'onn scanned the images of the incident as they filtered up through Disaster's memory. All he saw was smoke, blood, panic and general chaos. He picked up a small bandage and began to dress the wound on Disaster's arm.

_"Did you see any of the perpetrators?" _asked the Manhunter.

__

"No," replied Disaster. _"They only stayed long enough to trigger off maybe three or four short bursts of automatic fire, and then they were gone. I never saw them."_

Both heroes were silent for a moment, one pondering if he had left out something important amid the rush of panic and pain, the other already exploring new avenues of investigation.

Major Disaster sighed. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help, J'onn," he said aloud.

"It's alright, Paul. Stay here and tend to your wound. I will find out who is responsible for this."

"Well, when you do, make them scream," said Major Disaster. He shook a cigarette out of a pack in his pocket and lit up as he looked around at the damage around him. "Make them scream."

J'onn turned and walked away slowly, mentally scanning the immediate area for anyone who might have a useful bit of information about the tragedy. In order to concentrate on the task, J'onn had to shut out all of the pain and confusion that surrounded him. It was not easy. His first instinct was to reach out and comfort those in need. The only thing that overrode his compassion was his determination to find those responsible for causing the suffering of innocents. J'onn J'onzz was not called a Manhunter for nothing.

Skimming the thoughts and memories of those he passed, J'onn was drawn to a small girl on the perimeter of the park. She was clinging tightly to the arm of a woman standing next to her. Several small bandages, most no bigger than band-aids, adorned the girl's exposed skin.

The Manhunter approached the pair. The authorities at the scene were not letting anyone leave yet. Many of the people forced to stay were getting edgy, ready to fly at the first opportunity. J'onn could see the barely contained terror in the woman's eyes, and that it had seeped into the girl as well. Before he was close enough to speak, J'onn broadcast soothing thoughts into their minds. He wanted them as calm as possible while he questioned them.

"Ma'am," said J'onn as he reached them. "I need to speak to this girl." He nudged her mind. "She will be safe with me. I just want to ask her a few questions. Why don't you go over and get a nice cold drink while the two of us talk awhile." He gave her a final mental push. The woman released the girl's hand.

"Sweetie, I'll be right back. You stay here with the policeman." The woman slowly wandered off toward a nearby concession vendor.

J'onn knelt down beside the girl. "Hello," he said softly. "What's your name?"

"Madison."

"Madison, did you see what happened here? Someone or something that caused all of this?" The girl nodded. "Can you tell me?"

Madison opened her mouth, but no words came forth. J'onn felt the remembered fear begin to well up in her mind. Her eyes widened, and the Manhunter acted quickly to stave off a panic attack.

"It's okay. It's okay," said J'onn. He reached up and laid a hand on her shoulder to provide some connection and comfort. "You don't have to say anything. I just want you to think about what you saw."

He pulled the images from Madison's memory. He saw another girl through her eyes. The two were apparently engaged in a game of hide and seek. Madison slipped through the crowd, and took refuge behind a large tree. She peeked around the tree and saw a man in a long coat thread through the people formed up near the stage. The man's coat and his grim, sour look drew Madison's attention. Suddenly, the stranger looked around and threw open his coat. Madison glimpsed a device attached to the man's body. He yelled out, "Shepherds!" and pushed a button concealed in his hand. J'onn watched the man vaporize in the explosion and saw the shockwave flatten everything within the blast zone. The tree Madison was hiding behind absorbed the brunt of the attack, and had shielded her from the worst of the physical effects.

J'onn withdrew from Madison's mind. After a moment's hesitation, he said, "Madison, I'm going to make you forget what you saw here today." It was not a decision he made lightly, but someone of Madison's age and development would be severely traumatized by witnessing such an event. She would likely carry the scars for the rest of her life. The Manhunter would not sacrifice this girl and her innocence to the terrorists. He reached in and scrubbed the incident from her memory.

She looked up at him with a sense of wonder and astonishment. "How did you do that?"

"Can you keep a secret?" Madison nodded her head. J'onn let his facial features ripple back into the recognizable visage of the Martian Manhunter. He was rewarded with a big smile from Madison that all too quickly disappeared.

"What happened here?" the girl asked.

"Nothing you need to worry about," said J'onn. "Look, your mother is coming back. Go to her."

J'onn watched the two reunite, then moved among the victims, healing and comforting whenever he could.

Later, back at the Watchtower, the man hunter searched the database for any reference to a group called the "Shepherds". He found many who used the word, but none that seemed predisposed to carry out a terrorist

act of such magnitude as happened in Florida.

J'onn pushed away his disappointment with a hiss of breath. He glanced at a nearby clock and judged the time was right to make the call.. Bruce would be preparing for the night's activities, but would not yet have left the cave. J'onn activated the JLA communication matrix. Within moments, the Dark Knight appeared on the view screen.

"What is it, J'onn?"

"Hello, Bruce. I am glad I caught you before you left." He was tempted to try and engage Batman in pleasantries and small talk, but decided that would be the wrong strategy to take. "Did you hear about the attack on the JLA fan club meeting in Florida this afternoon?"

"Yes. Have you found something?"

"I spoke to an eyewitness who said the suicide bomber screamed out the word, 'Shepherds', before detonating himself. Nothing we have here has turned up anything useful. Perhaps you could give it a try."

"I'll run a search. If anything turns up, I will beam the information to the Watchtower."

Batman's image winked out, the abruptness of the termination was slightly unsettling to J'onn. Bruce had grown more distant recently, but he refused to disclose the reasons for the shift. It puzzled J'onn, but he would not poke around in the minds of his friends without invitation.

Almost an hour later, the information stream from Batman came through to J'onn. It was not as much as he had hoped. The Manhunter looked over the data, noting that according to all reports, the Shepherds were a recently formed organization. No trace of them went back further than five years. Most of the presented information was second-hand, with almost none from former members, and very little attributed to law enforcement agencies. J'onn also saw that the reports of the group's activities was widely scattered over several states.

Kyle Rayner poked his head into the room. "Plastic Man is here," he said. "I'm 'porting back."

"Hold on a minute Kyle, and I will join you." J'onn saved the information he had into a personal file for further review.

"Did you uncover anything?" asked Kyle as the pair walked back toward the transporter tubes.

"Nothing of any significance, yet," replied J'onn, "but there was an incident near Denver that I shall follow up on. It seems the local police captured a member of the Shepherds on a minor criminal charge. According to the report, they had just begun to question him when he suddenly went into a prolonged seizure. The suspect died on the spot, despite the medical attention he received at the station. An autopsy failed to determine a cause of death."

"Pretty thin, J'onn."

"Yes, but it is what I have. I am going to my home in Denver to mediate on what transpired today and take a fresh look at things in the morning."

"Good luck, J'onn," said Kyle has he punched in the coordinates to New York City. "Let me know if I can help."

"Thank you, Kyle. I am sure all will be well in the end.," said the Martian Manhunter just before he faded from the moon.

J'onn appeared two streets down from his Denver apartment in a dank, deserted ally. He immediately assumed his human guise of private detective John Jones and began the short walk to his building. His thoughts on the case, John paid little attention to the people surrounding him. He gained access to the dwelling, nodding absently at the few tenants he passed. Electing to take the stairs, John bounded up the three flights to his small apartment. Reaching for his key, the Martian was moderately surprised to see someone come out of the adjoining door.

It was a young woman in her early twenties. She gave a quick start when she saw John standing in the hallway.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, her hand fluttering to her chest. "I've never seen anyone come in or out of that apartment before."

"I'm afraid I'm not here all that often," said John with wry amusement. "Business keeps me on the move."

"I'm sorry if I scared you," said John. He extended his hand toward the woman. "My name is John Jones."

She took his hand easily in a firm grip. "I'm Kasey Boone. Nice to meet you Mr. Jones." She smiled.

"Call me John, please." He released her hand. "Are you going out?"

"Yup," she said as she locked her door. "Going to meet some friends of mine for a little get together."

"Be careful out there," called John as Kasey walked down the hall toward the elevators.

She gave a little wave. "See you around, John Jones."

John entered his sparsely furnished apartment. He calculated he had not been back to this place in a little over three weeks. Kasey had obviously moved in during that gap. The cursory mental picture he had formed of her held no surprises. She was a young Midwestern girl moving to the city for the first time to explore life. J'onn hoped she did not have an affinity for electronic rave music. He moved to the lone chair in the living room and settled into a meditative state where he would pass the remainder of the night.


	3. Eye of the Storm

The bright rays of the morning sun eventually shook J'onn out of his near comatose state. He stood and assuming his natural Martian form, did some casual stretching. He ended the daily routine by shifting into several different and increasingly complex shapes. In putting his mind and body through the paces, the exercise invigorated the Martian and left him ready to face the day. On his way out, J'onn stopped and grabbed a handful of Choco cookies before he went out the door. As he entered the hallway, he had already morphed into John Jones.

Hands thrust into the pockets of his trench coat, John made his way through the winding streets of Denver to the nearest police station. It was not a short walk, but John enjoyed seeing the city during this time. The Denver mornings were now getting cool, and the Martian liked nothing more than interacting with other people when the day was still full of promise.

John bought a newspaper and a cup of coffee, loaded with cream and sugar from a local vendor. He stopped at a bakery on the way for an apple fritter, and got into a healthy discussion with an elderly gentleman about the chances of the Broncos to make the playoffs this season. After leaving there, he escorted a group of children on their way to school across a street, and tossed a couple of dollars to a homeless beggar. By the time Jones reached the police station, he had a wide smile plastered across his face.

He did this sort of thing whenever he got the chance, which was not nearly often enough for his liking. An alien to this world, the Martian had grown to love the Earth and it's people. He saw their potential, and had vowed to help them achieve it , no matter the cost to himself. These jaunts among humanity made him feel like he was one of them, if only for a little while.

John entered the police station and strode up to the main desk. The officer on duty, one Sergeant Mike Callahan, looked up and immediately let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Haven't seen you around in a long time, Jones," said Callahan. "What do you want?"

"Good morning, Sergeant Callahan," said John expansively. "You are looking in fine form this morning. Would Detective Stewart be in his office?"

"Yeah, he came in a few minutes ago."

"Would it be possible for me to see him for a few minutes?"

Callahan locked eyes with Jones. Several seconds ticked by with neither one wavering. John was about to send Callahan a telepathic suggestion when the sergeant sighed again and said, "Go on up."

John climbed a flight of stairs and entered the police bullpen through a glass-paned door. These places all felt the same, thought John. Smelled the same, too. Breathing deeply, he caught scents of cold coffee, stale cigarettes and a disagreeable miasma of faint body odors which ranged from clean to rank. John also caught a psychic flash, which he quickly shut down. Some of the worst examples of the human species passed through here, and John had no desire to dwell on their poisonous impressions right now.

A tall man entered from the adjoining locker-room. He spotted John immediately, and the small frown that crossed his face did not go unnoticed by the Martian.

"Jones," said Detective Emmanuel Stewart warily. "What brings you by so early in the morning?"

"I hope I am not intruding, Detective Stewart," said John, "but I have need of some information."

Stewart walked over to his desk, and sat down. He motioned John over with a wave of his hand, and indicated he should have a seat.

"My time is valuable, Jones," said Stewart. He patted a pile of paperwork at his side. "I have a ton of cases that are screaming for my attention, so let's keep this short, okay?"

As far as the Denver Police Department was concerned, John Jones was a former detective who had quit the force to go private, something most police officers looked down upon. Private detectives were considered amateurs and meddlesome, often interfering with real police investigations.. The only reason they tolerated John was because he was once a member of the thin blue line. It bought him time and respect, although little enough of both.

In actuality, Detective John Jones had died a few years ago in the arms of J'onn J'onzz. The Martian decided to take over Jones's identity. Mostly out of a sense of obligation for not having saved the man's life.

"Sure," said John. "I'm looking into the death of Daniel Roebuck. He died a couple of months ago while in police custody. I need to know what happened."

"Why?" asked Stewart sharply. "Who hired you?"

John shrugged. "A member of the family," he said. "They want to make sure it went down like they were told." He made a little flip of his hand. "Lingering doubts. And it's a paycheck for me."

"Ah," said Stewart, satisfied that John was not nosing into department business on a crusade against the police. Stewart steeped his fingers and stared at John for a long time. John returned his gaze, although he resisted the urge to peek inside the cop's mind.

"It didn't happen at this station," said Stewart, "but I know a guy who was there. He said it was one of the strangest damn things he had ever see. And coming from him, that is saying something. They picked the boy up for trespassing. He was sneaking around a chemical plant when he tripped an alarm."

Stewart took out a pack of cigarettes and shook one out into his hand. He offered one to John.

"No thanks," said John. "I quit some time ago."

"Huh, you used to smoke like a chimney."

"Clean living has made me the man I am today," said John. "Besides, those things will kill you."

"Yeah, well, what won't," said Stewart. He lit the cigarette and took a hard drag.

"Kid didn't have anything on him. No weapons, no tools, hadn't taken anything yet. Scaled a fence to get into the place." Stewart took a another drag off the cigarette, then let a puff of smoke escape into the musty air.

"There had been a minor rash of thefts from similar places over a series of months, and one of the shields working the case decided to question the kid. He wasn't a suspect, it was more like a probe." The half-smoked cigarette was snuffed out in a nearby ashtray.

"The only unusual thing they found on him was one of those little pocket notebooks. Inside was list of names, four or five. Address and phone numbers for each were included. At the top of this page was the headline; Shepherds-East Denver."

"They tossed the notebook down in front of the kid, who had not uttered one word since he was arrested, not even to demand a mouthpiece. The detective in charge asked him about the Shepherds. The kid looked up once, opened his mouth like he was gonna say something, and went into convulsions. Not just the normal kind, either, these were Exorcist-like."

"Nobody could do anything to help him, and the coroner's report found him to be in perfect health," finished Stewart. "It's a damn mystery."

"And the other names on the list?" asked John.

"Gone," said Stewart. "Vanished without a trace by the next day."

"You seem to end up in a lot of weird shit, Jones," said Stewart. "This an X-Files case?"

"Maybe," said John. "I'll have to see what I can dig up."

"Keep me informed."

"Yeah, sure," said John. He got up to leave. "Thanks for your help, Detective."

"Whatever, Jones. Just don't do anything illegal that gets back to me."

"I will be the soul of discretion."

John went back downstairs, and out of the police station. Once again, as he walked, he was lost in thought. He had actually found out very little about the deceased Daniel Roebuck, and all of the leads in the case seemed to lead straight into a dead end.

Something nagged at the back of his mind, and he spent a great deal of the day wandering around the city letting his brain work through the case at a subconscious level. Eventually, John found himself back in front of his apartment building without quite realizing how he had done so. Shrugging his shoulders, John went inside.

Once he was alone in his home. John drew a scalding hot bath, and climbed into the tub to relax. He reverted to his natural Martian form and soaked in the steaming liquid. Being from Mars, where water was always so scarce, it seemed the utmost of luxuries to be able to bathe in it. J'onn sighed deeply and sank a bit deeper into the tub.

The death of Daniel Roebuck had all the hallmarks of a psychic attack. It could be that a mental trigger caused the fatal convulsions. It would take a deep-seated and amazingly strong mind to implant a command that could override a person's sense of self-preservation. J'onn only knew of a handful of beings on Earth powerful enough to that from a distance. Most like Hector Hammond, the Ultra-Humanite, and Brainwave were accounted for. A rogue White Martian could also be responsible, and although J'onn could not think of a reason why one would be operating this way, it was a possibility he would have to follow up on.

A sudden knock on his front door startled him. He stood and effortlessly changed back into his John Jones form. A quick mental cast toward the door revealed his visitor to be Kasey Boone. His curiosity piqued, John grabbed his robe and went to answer the door.

"Miss Boone," he said when they were face to face. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I hope I'm not interrupting, John," she said, eying his robe-clad form. "I heard you come in a little bit ago. I was wondering if I could talk to you about something."

"Of course," said John. He felt anxiety radiating off of her. "Come on in." John stepped aside and let Kasey into his apartment.

She looked around as she walked into the living room. "Pretty Spartan conditions you got here, John,' she said. "I'm guessing you don't believe much in interior decorating."

"Uh, no," said John. "I've never really had the knack for it." He gestured toward an old ratty couch. "Please, sit and tell me what's on your mind."

Kasey took a seat, while John sat in a recliner facing her.

"I don't really know how to say this," said Kasey. "I'm kind of new here, and I don't know a lot of people, but I'm a people person, ya know? And we are neighbors and all, so…hell, would you like to go out to dinner sometime?"

"I…" John was speechless. His first thought was of relief that neither Wally nor Kyle were here to witness this episode.

"Don't read too much into it, John," said Kasey. "This is more of getting to know you kind of thing. We could eat in, but I'm not much of a cook, and by the look of things around here, you're not either."

"Okay, sure," said John. "I don't see why not."

"Good," said Kasey, a bright smile breaking across her face. "How does Thursday night sound?"

"Swell," said John, who was warming to the idea of as night out with another human who was not in the superhero business.

Kasey got up from the couch and headed for the door. John followed her.

"I'll see you Thursday then," said Kasey.

"I am looking forward to it," said John. They exchanged goodbye's and parted ways. John returned to his bath and wondered at the strange ways of people on this planet.


	4. Trapped!

The next day, J'onn resumed his investigation. He teleported back up to the Watchtower, determined to get to the bottom of the Florida attack. The Martian's footsteps echoed down the hallways of the JLA base on the moon. He walked directly to one of the auxiliary monitor rooms, and powered up the interface. J'onn ran a search of all known psionics powerful enough to remote control a group of people. The JLA computer began to pull up the relevant information from its immense data base.

"Hello, J'onn."

The Martian Manhunter turned toward the voice. Wonder Woman leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed lightly across her breastplate. "Hello, Diana. I did not mean to disturb you."

The Amazon smiled, and moved languidly into the room. "You did not, but I thought I would come down and welcome an old friend." She looked over J'onn's shoulder. "What are you working on?"

"The Florida attack," he replied.

"Ah," said Wonder Woman, and the Manhunter saw her eyes go flat and hard. "Have you found who was responsible?"

"Not yet," J'onn admitted. "Whoever was behind this incident, and some others I have uncovered, they are very secretive and very good at staying hidden."

"When you find them…"

"You will be the first one I contact," said J'onn.

"Good," said Wonder Woman. She turned her head back toward the open door. "I had better return to monitor duty, and leave you to your work." Diana, Princess of the Amazons, put her hands on the Martian's shoulders, and smiled. "It is good to see you again, J'onn," she said. "Don't forget to say goodbye before you leave."

"I will not forget," said J'onn. He watched Diana turn and leave the room. She walked with an uncanny grace that he had never seen on another being. Wonder Woman affected more people, in vastly different ways, than anyone else in the League, past or present. His lips twitched slightly upward in a smile. She inspired others to become something greater than they thought they ever could be, and was a powerful symbol of hope to millions around the globe. Yet, on the other hand, her physical beauty and presence were strong enough to arouse vaguely prurient thoughts in almost everyone within close proximity to the Amazon warrior. Even during League meetings this was true. Wally and Kyle were bad, but were too intimidated, and smart to do anything about it. Plastic Man was not as shy, nor as smart. Diana had once wrapped him around an inner pylon strut and threatened to dice the stretchable sleuth into tiny bits for posing as a shower curtain inside her personal quarters on the Watchtower. J'onn had to throw up a mental block whenever Wonder Woman and Green Arrow were in the same room. Ollie was relentless, but he knew better than to give voice to his thoughts. A couple of times, the Manhunter thought he caught a flicker of interest from Batman, but he could not be sure. For her part, Diana tried hard to ignore the reactions she caused among her teammates. It was part of her nature, and she could not change it. J'onn wondered if she would, were such a thing possible.

The computer beeped, signifying that its work was finished. The Manhunter began to look over the names which appeared on the screen, and a frown creased his mouth as he discarded one after another. He had hoped the computer would drag up a name which he had somehow forgotten, but nothing rang a bell. He was left with nothing more than a vapor trail of maybes and suppositions. Masking his growing frustration, J'onn said farewell to Wonder Woman, and beamed back to Earth.

He spent the remainder of the day, and much of the next, tracking down a series of second-tier villains who might have somehow gotten a power boost. The Manhunter dropped in on the likes of the Mind-Eater and Dr. Trawley, but none of them seemed to have the resources to create a national network of sleeper agents. The Martian returned to Denver irritated and annoyed at his lack of progress in cracking the case. Everything seemed to lead to a dead end. The one thing he had to look forward to was tonight's dinner with Kasey. He hoped it would be enough to take his mind away from the investigation.

Later in the evening, a tentative knock sounded on his door. John opened it to find Kasey on the other side. She was wearing a light blue dress, with matching shoes and handbag.

"Hi, John," she said. "Ready to go?"

"Yes. If only I knew where we were going."

"Don't worry, Jones. I have a place already picked out. I figure a man of your discriminating taste deserves something special."

John cocked an eyebrow. "Then let's not waste any time," he said, offering one arm to Kasey. The pair walked down the hallway, and out of the apartment building. John suggested a taxi, but Kasey insisted on walking, saying it wasn't that far, and she enjoyed strolling through the city. After a meandering walk punctuated with laughter and increasingly bold conversation, Kasey swung John into a sushi restaurant called The Golden Clam. Since J'onn had spent ample time in the Far East, and had acquired an appreciation for the cuisine, he was pleasantly surprised with the choice.

Kasey had reserved a table, and the two sat down facing one another, to enjoy a sumptuous meal together. While they ate, John learned of Kasey's dreams and ambitions, her family and past, and her thoughts on Denver and its inhabitants. In turn, John revealed little about himself, but kept the chat going with well-timed misdirection. He found that he genuinely liked this young woman and enjoyed her company. It was just the right antidote for his sour mood.

After dinner, the twosome left the restaurant again arm in arm. The night was clear and bright, with a three quarter moon shining down, illuminating the streets and sidewalks with a pale glow. J"onn looked up at the gleaming stars and smiled.

"Let's take a walk through Eastland Park," suggested Kasey. "Unless you're in a hurry to get home."

Not at all," said John. Eastland was a large park just a few blocks from their location. It was a bit of a detour from their apartment building, but the it offered a serene beauty, even after the sun went down.

The park was largely deserted at this time of night, leaving John and Kasey to walk the paths which wound through the park alone. The trails were lit by widely spaced overhead lights , and the pair walked and talked, at times lapsing into an easy silence as they enjoyed the splendor of their surroundings.

Something suddenly tugged at J'onn's mind, and he looked down the path they were traveling and saw a lone man standing in the middle of the lane. He was dressed in a suit, and appeared to be grinning. J'onn did not recognize him. He was about to say something, when Kasey stepped in front of him.

"John, can I ask you a question?"

J'onn tore his eyes away from the man on the trail. He had not moved at all. "What is it, Kasey?"

She took a small step away from him. "Do you believe in God?"

"What?" The query took him by surprise, and it was a moment before he noticed the strange transformation which was rapidly overtaking Kasey. Her eyes were now bright and full of hate, J'onn could feel the intense emotion burning from the girl. It shook him.

"Do you know how hard it was to allow you to touch me, you alien filth," she hissed. "Soon, your kind will be washed away by the one, true God!" Kasey reached into her handbag and pulled out a handgun. J'onn was shocked, even when she pulled the trigger without hesitation. The bullets shredded J'onn's shirt, but did no physical damage to the Manhunter.

"Kasey, stop," pleaded J'onn. "Someone is making you do this." He cast a quick glance down the trail. The man was still there, watching, but he had not moved an inch.

"I serve God, Martian," the woman spat. "He has opened my eyes to the truth about you and the rest of you so-called heroes."

"You are a Shepherd" said J'onn. His voice was tinged with sadness. Here was the break in the case he had been searching for, and it was destined to cause him sorrow and pain.

"I am Chosen," said Kasey with a triumphant smile. I'll tell you something else, Martian. God has sent His angels to help me destroy you." J'onn heard a deep rustling in the trees overhead. Kasey backed up another step from the Manhunter, then one more. "God wants you, J'onn J'onzz!" she screamed. "Darkseid wants you!"


End file.
